In Death Does Duty End
by ilak74
Summary: Warhammer 40000. Heresy festers in the Segmentum Pacificus, while Holy Terra herself is threatened by the Tyranids. The Intrepid Inquisitor Valerian Ztern and his acolytes battle heretics, xenos and calcification within the holy Ordos.
1. Chapter 1

As he regarded the swirling cloudscape of the hive world Atopos XIV through the view port of his personal stateroom, Inquisitor Valerian Ztern lifted an exquisite goblet of Jovian crystal to his lips, and drank a sip of wine.

His face twitched with displeasure, and he emptied the contents of the goblet on the floor with slow disdain.

"This vintage is not to my liking", he said. "Bring me another".

The Inquisitor's manservant bowed, and stopped polishing a magnificent suit of black and gold power armour. A crawling servitor began mopping up the spilled wine from the floor with a rag.

The manservant left through the hissing door to the magnificent stateroom.

Moments later a voxcaster crackled to life, and a distorted voice informed the Inquisitor that Veteran Sergeant Kartox of the White Guardians Space Marine Chapter requested an audience.

"Idiot!" the Inquisitor hissed. "You dare keep an Astartes waiting? Let the Sergeant in at once!"

With a steam-filled thud the door opened again, and the hulking form of a space marine clad in white and steel gray power armor negotiated itself through its frame.

The strangely pale and impassive face of the Astartes was a map of scar tissue, and his silvery replacement eyes of Archeotech design gave his gaze an unknowable quality.

"The Emperor Protects", rumbled the Astartes.

"Sergeant Kartox! What an unexpected pleasure. Although I doubt you have come here for a personal conversation".

Something that could almost be interpreted as amusement was visible on the face of the Astartes for a fraction of a second.

"No, Inquisitor. I have not".

"Well, how can I be of assistance then, Sergeant?"

"Inquisitor", said Kartox. "I am merely wondering if there are any additional duties that you wish my detachment to perform. My battle brothers have many skills and capacities that are not being utilized ".

"Your brothers have become impatient," said Valerian. "That is fully understandable, Sergeant"

"We ask only to serve", said the space marine.

"So... You do not regard keeping a whole squadron of Astartes in idleness aboard a star ship for two weeks as a misapplication of resources?"

The face of the Astartes made no movement.

"I do not question the will of the Emperor's Inquisition, Sir".

"Of course not Sergeant", said the Inquisitor. "But if you do wonder _why,_ you are not alone. I have already made you privy to the details of of this investigation. The sub-sector commander is indeed planning a rebellion. He is in secret a heretic of a most vile and debased nature. But here is the tricky part, Sergeant. He should have set his plan in motion three weeks ago. All the intelligence gathered by my acolytes suggests this. Even the Emperor's Tarot corroborates it; a portent, which is ominous and puzzling at the same time".

"I do not understand, Inquisitor. If we know of this shocking treason, why do we not just transport into the heretics palace and make short work of him?"

The Inquisitor turned toward the door as the hunchbacked form of his manservant emerged through, carrying a tray with a dusty bottle of wine. Irritatedly, the Inquisitor urged him forward.

"Would you like some wine, Sergeant?"

"I do not care for such indulgences", Rumbled the Astartes. The manservant poured a goblet for his master, who impatiently snatched it from his hand.

"Well, as I was saying. The sub-sector commander should have acted three weeks ago, according to all predictions. But the course of action that you suggest Sergeant, would be premature. You see, Heretics are a little bit like ship-rats. There is always a big ragged beastly one that comes out of the nest first and sniffs around a little bit. Once the coast is clear, the rest of the wretched creatures come out of their hiding places".

"There are a species of predatory ringworms on our home world that act much in the same manner", said the Astartes. "It suggests a sound tactic, Inquisitor".

"Yes. I already have kill teams on dozens of worlds, standing by to execute the Sub-Sector commander's fellow heretics. We know that some of the planetary governors are in league with him. Then follows of course the regular purges and decimations. Its a plot of almost staggering proportions".

The Inquisitor took a sip from his new goblet of wine. For a moment, his face contorted into an expression of utter disgust.

"Günther – this wine has the bouquet of vat scrapings. Do you not keep the wine cellar in order? I should have you mind scrubbed and turned into a servitor, you useless slug!"

The manservant cowered in terror before the Inquisitor as a few pathetic, whimpering noises escaped his mouth. Ztern returned the goblet to the tray with a snap and motioned his servant away.

"Forgive me Sergeant", said the Inquisitor. "Is there really nothing I can do for you?"

The Astartes cleared his throat, displaying a rare hint of hesitation.

"Inquisitor. There is one thing that is affecting the morale of my battle brothers. It is this... half-xenos _thing_ you use to carry out some interrogations and killings. They dislike it lurking around near their quarters."

"You are speaking of Gibarius, Sergeant".

"Indeed, Inquisitor".

The Astartes shifted uncomfortably in his power armor, as his lips moved in a nearly inaudible litany against corruption.

"Let me put your mind at ease, Sergeant. Gibarius is not a xenoform. He was experimented upon by Xenos, yes. Implanted. But he still remains genetically human. He has been tested for purity on numerous occasions".

"Xenotech implants", said the Astartes. "Is that not the same as carrying the Xenos taint? Forgive me for saying so Inquisitor, but you are splitting hairs".

"Gibarius destroyed thirteen kill teams that were sent out to liquidate him. That was of course only after he murdered the entire nobility of Hive Mortuus, who were known for their extreme defensive measures and paranoia. That process took seven years. When he was finally captured, it took the concerted efforts the Mechanicus and two Ordos of the Inquisition. Of course his mind has been scrubbed – he does not remember his life before he became my acolyte, or what the Necrons did to him. What I've related to you now is highly confidential, of course".

"I doubt that tale would set the battle brothers' minds at ease, in any case", the Astartes grumbled.

Ztern sat down in his elaborate command chair, and sighed.

"It can't be helped. His skills are just too valuable. But I will order him that he must steer clear of your section of the frigate. If he has been lurking around, its only because he is studying you. Its one of his quirks".

The Astartes nodded curtly. "I thank you for this, Inquisitor. Now, if you will excuse me. I must return to my quarters for Litanies of the Second Watch".

"The Emperor protects", said the Inquisitor.

"Be vigilant", the Astartes answered.

After the space marine had left his stateroom, Valerian Ztern felt an old and cold melancholy begin to creep into his bones. He knew was entering one of his choleric moods – common among those in the service of the Emperor who had seen to much, and knew too much.

He rose from his chair and left his quarters, entering a pillared hallway lined with statues of Imperial heroes. It was nothing like the enormous spaces he had seen aboard the great Battleships of the Imperial Navy, which could rival some cathedrals of the God Emperor's Faith. But it ended in a large reinforced window on the starboard side of the frigate where he could gaze into the cold empty void of space, and at the flickering stars beyond.

He sometimes thought he had too much time to ponder the vast conspiracy that he was about to uncover. It was an accusation years in the making, which had involved most of his enclave of Inquisitors at one time or another. The Sub-Sector Commander was a formidable foe, and not to be underestimated. But at times Valerian Ztern felt the clammy tentacles of doubt slither into his mind. There were moments, short moments, when he had misgivings about the entire conspiracy.

There had been strange signs and portents. Such grand heresies as this one almost always bore the slimy fingerprints of the Ruinous Powers upon them, yet the Ordo Malleus had shown almost no interest in it. The psykers reported that the Immaterium in the sub-sector remained strangely placid and stable, which was never the case when the gibbering chaos entities of the warp gathered to influence the minds of mortals. Yet the Emperor's Tarot showed mysterious omens and warnings, the meaning of which even the most accomplished sanctioned psykers failed to interpret in any meaningful way.

The Inquisitor pressed a few buttons on his com-sleeve and spoke into the device.

"Gibarius, report to me at once".

Moments later, the assassin materialized behind him, using the alien phasing technology implanted in his body by the Necrons. Valerian turned around and saw that the man was shrouded in his usual tattered gray robe, the stretched skin of his face barely concealing the xenotech implants beneath. He bore no visible armor whatsoever. On Gibarius' lips was his customary mocking smile.

"You wanted to speak, Lord?"

"I wish you wouldn't do that", said the Inquisitor.

"Duly noted, Lord".

"Now then", said Valerian. "There is an important new order for you".

"And what would that be, Lord?"

When speaking to the assassin Gibarius, Valerian often felt as though he was disciplining a child. One that could kill the entire crew of his ship in an hour.

"You must stop stalking the Adeptus Astartes who are stationed upon this vessel. Is that clear?"

The assassin gained a petulant look. Valerian wondered if it was ironical or not.

"But Lord, they have such interesting defensive capabilities. It is in your best interest that I study them, Lord. It will mean that I add new skills to my repertoire".

"The Astartes", said the Inquisitor, "are among the most valued and trusted servants of the God Emperor. They are not some kind of practice dummies".

"The God Emperor", said the assassin in a subdued voice. "Yes – surely".

Valerian didn't like the tone in Gibarius' voice. "Are you certain that your suppression caul is working properly?"

"As far as I am aware", said the assassin.

"Report to the Machine Priest at once for an adjustment ritual".

"As you have ordered, Lord", said Gibarius, and vanished at once in a shimmer of strange green static.

Valerian Ztern felt a sudden need to banish both his melancholy feelings and the cloying aftereffects of the assassin's presence from his mind. He pressed a miniscule button, hidden by a stealth-projector in the knee pad of the armor of an imperial saint's statue, and a secret panel slid aside. It led to a small elevator, lit by a soft orange light.

The Inquisitor stepped inside, and after the door had slid shut the clanking machine began conveying him down into the menial portions of the ship. He stepped out of the elevator into a cluttered corridor, lit by flickering lamps and filled with steam, smoke, hissing tubes and pistons working at a frantic speed. The noise was almost deafening, and the air had the musty, homely smell of the lower decks of a vessel of the Imperial Navy. Here lived and worked entire cohorts of crewmen and servants who knew little comfort except bland meals of nutria-slop and a few hours sleep snatched on heaps of oily rags, almost oblivious to the fact that they were aboard a mighty vessel of war.

Ztern made his way down the corridor; cowering and bowing servants and menials scurried out of his way. He turned right at an intersection and made his way up a rusting, clamoring gangway. A thick steel door led from there into the common areas of the crew.

As the Inquisitor made his way down another dimly lit hallway, he heard echoes of loud arguing among many voices, shouting in the ponderous accents of commoners. He slowed his steps as he entered a great mess hall filled with long tables and benches. The scents of stale food and sweat hung in the air, and a few cooking servitors were watching in blank incomprehension as a near brawl was taking place in front of their eyes.

"Inquisition eh", shouted a huge Errant Officer of the Navy, who's right arm was a cumbersome mechanical replacement. "Well, I don't see ye flashin' any rosette of the Inquisition, ye smelly, stinkin' hull mutant!"

The thuggish entourage of the Navy man roared with laughter, as a hulking Stormtrooper corporal tried a comeback.

"Mutant? I'll have your hide for that. By the Emperor - we didn't steel aught from you Navy rats. You had better say sorry or we'll have you thrown in the corpse grinder!"

Ztern saw the surrounding stormtroopers fingering improvised weapons and sidearms. He knew from experience that fights such as this one could easily lead to several deaths if a commissioned officer did not intervene. But none seemed to be present.

The agitated crowd of crewmen and stormtroopers was so worked up that none even noticed the Inquisitor pushing through. With two quick lashes of his hidden neurowhip he made the two main antagonists collapse moaning to the floor. He then drew his power rapier and leaped atop a table. A subdued hush spread through the mess hall.

"What is this", he boomed. "Infighting among servants of the Imperium? This is near treason! I should have you decimated".

"But Lord", complained a Navy man, "those dirty land lubbers stole from the- "

In one fluid motion, the Inquisitor had drawn his high powered slugthrower and placed a bullet between the unfortunate crewman's eyes. A stench of cordite hang in the air as he slumped to the floor.

"The next one who dares to raise his voice to an Imperial Inquisitor will face a punishment that is much more severe".

Valerian turned toward the stormtroopers.

"As for you – report to your respective company commanders at eight bells for thirty-three electro lashes. And don't believe for a moment that I will forget about this infraction!"

Valerian jumped down from the table, holstered his weapon and headed toward the officer's section of the stormtrooper barracks. The host of soldiers and Navy men divided in fear before him, bowing their heads in frightened submission.

As he entered the personal quarters of one of the officers, the man stood quickly to attention. His plasma rifle lay disassembled on a bench – it was obvious he was practicing a field-stripping ritual.

"Well, well Captain... While you are in here playing with your rifle, your men are almost causing a mutiny in the mess hall", said the Inquisitor in an icy tone of voice.

"Lord! Give me the names of the culprits, and I will execute them myself!"

Valerian started pacing back and forth in front of the Captain, while fixing his steely gaze on the officer's face. He was a sinewy, thin-lipped man with thick eyebrows and a prominent scar that ran from his forehead, all the way across the right side of his face and down the throat.

"The situation has already been remedied. Now tell me Captain Kerrigan: why I shouldn't send you straight to a penal battalion?"

The Captain swallowed. "There is no excuse, Inquisitor. I await your righteous judgment".

The Inquisitor gave a vry smile. "Never mind. It was actually quite refreshing – reminded me of my old navy days. But I do expect you to carry out the disciplining yourself. You see, I came down here to have a drink with an old friend, and I don't really like having my plans interrupted by a bunch of grunts. Now Captain Kerrigan – where do you keep that bottle of Somian Meltgut?"

In the Astartes section of the Frigate, the Space Marine detachment under Veteran Sergeant Wulliam Kartox were attempting to enjoy their daily half hour of personal time. One of the younger Space Marines was playing the Gnaagian blade dance with his combat knife, while Sargeant Kartox was seemingly immersed in the tome _Studium Lateribus Circumfusi Contra Alienigenis _by Rogal Dorn_._

"Is there something you wish to share with the squadron, Battle Brother?" said Sergeant Kartox to Brother Klang, who was cleaning some heavy bolter shells.

"I do not know to what you may be referring, Sargeant", the junior Astartes replied.

"It is the third time that you clean that belt of bolter shells. Is there some litany that I am unaware of, during which the wrath of the Emperor is further invoked by _cleaning_ the shell repeatedly?"

"No, Sargeant," Brother Klang replied.

"Then, in His name – out with it!"

Brother Klang abruptly stood up, his super human muscles flexing with barely contained rage beneath his black robe. "It is that Xenos thing! I cannot bear to be on the same ship as it. We should flush it into the vaccuum, or cleanse it with fire!"

"This matter", said Sargeant Kartox, "has already been explained to you in full, Brother".

"Abhor the alien. Purge the unclean! Have you all forgotten, Battle Brothers?"

Now Sargeant Kartox also stood to his feet, and delivered a sudden blow with the back of his hand to the face of Brother Klang. He fell to one knee, blood trickling from his mouth.

"Forgotten?" cried Sargeant Kartox. "I have been Sargeant for longer than most of you have lived. But you, Brother Klang, are guilty of the sin of pride!"

Sargeant Kartox sat down heavily, thoughtfully rubbing a scar on his right hand. His gaze seemed distant. All the eyes of the battle-brothers in the chamber were upon him.

"We all know the history of our company, Brothers. But it is a different thing entirely, having lived through a shameful event. You see I was there – at the Cleansing of Raygun's Rest, when the Fire Hawks chapter refused to fight beside us. Claiming that our gene-seed was impure. We nearly came to blows that day. Imagine it Brothers – Astartes fighting Astartes!"

"It is said by many that it was the Fire Hawks who were impure", said another Space Marine.

"You should not speak so of a chapter of Astartes, for whom the great bell of Terra has tolled a thousand times. Besides, it is also said that none are pure or truly whole anymore", said Sargeant Kartox. "But that is beside the point. What is important is that it nearly came to fraticide that day, between us and the Fire Hawks. Because of our mutual pride. We almost forgot our true purpose: to serve the Empire of Man. Who knows what use the Emperor may have for that assassin – be it half-xenos or not. Besides; we may not and cannot question the Holy Inquisition".

The Astartes sat in stony silence for a while. Then suddenly, the signal for General Quarters sounded. As one man the Space Marines stood up, and a host of servitors came scurrying with the different components of their power armour suits. As the Astartes clad themselves for battle, a voice resounded through every voxcaster on the ship:

"_Attention! This is the Inquisitor Speaking! In three quarters of an hour this vessel will dock with Inquisition Barge _Justificatum Dolor_, the vessel of Inquisitor Lord Hansel Offenbach! All servants of the Navy and Inquisition must be to quarters until further notice! Be Vigilant!" _


	2. Chapter 2

_Inquisitor Lord Hansel Offenbach, thought Valerian Ztern._

_He has become a bureaucrat – little more than a pulpit warrior. A past hero of the Imperium, who has been trapped in a life support chair for one hundred years. Surely he will bring his lap dog with him – that insufferable Desdemona Kali and her blind puritan teachings. It is a pity that Lord Offenbach has the mandate of the Conclave. The both of them will ruin everything I have worked for all this time. _

The frigate of Valerian Ztern, the _Sudden Retribution_, was dwarfed by the black menace that was the _Justificatum Dolor_ – a truly oppressive representation of the Inquisition's dreadful power. The twin prows of the great barge were inscribed with the sigil of the Inquisition, and where other Imperial vessels would have displayed proud Gothic facades with stained glass windows radiating a celestial light, the _Justificatum Dolor _showed only forbidding black armor and batteries bristling with deadly weapons. A heretic who witnessed its great bulk blotting out the stars, thought Valerian Ztern, could not help but feel the iron hand of the Inquisition at his throat.

A pair of Imperial Navy cruisers flanked the Inquisition barge, surrounded by swarms of smaller escort ships.

Valerian Ztern had clad himself in his stately suit of power armor. It had been crafted millennia ago on the famous forge world Hephastus from the purified remains of a fallen Traitor Titan, as a symbol of the Emperor's ascendancy over the forces of chaos. At his side was a precious Inferno Pistol, and in a chest holster he carried his trusty old slugthrower. His manservant Günther trailed behind carrying his helmet, which was embossed with the seal of the Inquisition.

Valerian had chosen his entourage with great care, so as to project his authority without seeming ostentatious. There was Veteran Sergeant Kartox and two of his Astartes; the Stormtrooper Captain Kerrigan and a squadron of his most elite soldiers, and also the Inquisitor's personal Astropath. He had chosen to use his personal sloop for his audience with the Inquisitor Lord.

As his small vessel drew near to the vast bulk of the _Justificatum Dolor_, he felt himself sinking a little. He knew what was about to transpire aboard that great ship. And yet, he had always been taught that to despair, was to sin against the God Emperor.

The great pillared hallway that led to the Judgment Chamber aboard the Inquisition barge was hung with great black banners depicting the Aquila and the seal of the Inquisition. The absence of statues in this place, he was once told, was a tribute to the myriads of unsung and unnamed heroes who had given their lives in service to the Holy Ordos and the Emperor of Mankind. The corridor was lined on each side by a whole division of stormtroopers.

At the end of the great passage there was a sombre black chamber lit by smoking braziers, but the solemness of the place was relieved somewhat by a gigantic mosaic of the God Emperor as he appeared before his ascension to the Golden Throne, gazing down in stern but just judgment on all before him.

Before the mosaic there was a raised dais of thirteen steps, and upon it presided Inquisitor Lord Hansel Offenbach in his great life support chair. The Lord himself was almost completely obscured by the many strange machine components that were required for him to cling to his fourth century of service to the Emperor. Half a dozen cherubim and automated drones hovered above. Valerian Ztern felt a twinge of irritation as he saw the lithe, armored figure of the Inquisitor Desdemona Kali also upon the dais, surrounded by many servitors and acolytes.

Valerian Ztern and his retinue fell to one knee before the dais, paying their respects to the Inquisitor Lord and Hero of the Imperium.

"Rise, servants of the Emperor".

The voice of Lord Offenbach echoed through the chamber, aided by ventilators and vox-magnifiers.

"I have answered your summons, Lord Inquisitor", said Valerian, rising to his feet again. His retinue followed suit.

"My former acolyte, Inquisitor Desdemona Kali, needs little introduction", said the Inquisitor Lord.

Desdemona Kali descended the thirteen steps. Her eyes were fixed on the faces of Ztern's retinue. He knew she was scanning them for any outward signs of corruption and heresy.

"Has the purge of Atopos XIV been commenced", asked the Inquisitor Lady. Her face, although very pretty, seemed to be always frozen in an iron mask of mingled contempt and suspicion.

"No, Inquisitor Kali. The case does yet require some discretion", said Ztern.

"How so? The planet is rife with heresy, is it not?"

"Sub-Sector Commander Ba'rak VonLugosa", answered Ztern, "is indeed a heretic of a most vile nature. His subversive plotting and corruption is so vast that my archives are threatening to burst, as the accusatory documents continue to pile up. But I am waiting for him to rise up in open revolt against the Imperium. This will intice his co-conspirators out of their own subterfuge. My trap is set and ready to be sprung, Lady".

Desdemona Kali turned toward Ztern and pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. "You, Inquisitor, are displaying all the traits of a bleeding heart moderate. Procrastination leads to doubt. Doubt begets heresy!"

Valerian scowled.

"You forget that you are addressing a fellow Imperial Inquisitor, my Lady".

Desdemona Kali gestured dismissively. "Once the arch-heretic has been purged, the necessary accusations can be fabricated. Then we can persecute all those who could possibly have conspired with this Ba'rak VonLugosa".

"Forgive me, Lady", said Valerian, "but that is absurd. That would add up to every planetary governor in the sub-sector and their nomenclatures, and every military commander, plus countless members of the administratum. The sub-sector could be thrown into utter anarchy. It could spread through the whole sector, and beyond!"

"Hear me now", said Lord Offenbach in a stern but labored voice. "All who are not full members of the Imperial Inquisition must leave this chamber at once".

The retinues of the Inquisitors obediently began to defilate out of the Chamber of Judgment Behind them, great steel doors swung silently on hidden hinges and slammed ominously shut. As the echo subsided, Lord Offenbach spoke once more.

"That is a risk that we are forced to take. You are unaware of the wider perspective, Inquisitor Ztern. The Segmentum Solar is under attack. The tyranid Hive-fleets are poising themselves to strike at Holy Terra Herself, and this segmentum of the Imperium may be cut of. We cannot allow heresy to fester and grow, for any reason whatsoever. The purging of this system will take place _now,_ whether you like it or not, Inquisitor Ztern".

"My Lord. I merely do not wish to throw my hand. It would be a great waste, to both us and the Imperium as a whole".

You may act as you wish, Inquisitor", answered Lord Offenbach. "You do carry an Inquisitorial Rosette. But, if you attempt to interfere in any way: bear in mind that I have it in my power to issue a writ to the Conclave, requesting that you be declared _Excommunicate Traitoris!"_

"Interfere?" Ztern felt flabbergasted. "I must aid you, Lord Inquisitor! I have teams of acolytes who have infiltrated the spire palace of the sub-sector commander. They are standing by to destroy the void shield defenses of his fortress as we speak. Without my assistance, many valuable servants of the Imperium would be lost needlessly during the assault".

"So be it then", said Desdemona Kali. "We will set course for Atopos XIV at once, and order the Sub-Sector Commander to stand down his defenses and face the righteous judgment of the Holy Inquisition. Purge the heretic!"

Some hours later, Valerian Ztern was standing on the command deck of his own frigate, watching as the Imperial Navy cruisers delivered a pair of devastating broadsides to an orbital defense battery. There was an explosion like the birth of a new sun, and the great structure – the size of a small hive-city – began to break apart. A large defense monitor vessel entered the fray and pounded one of the Imperial cruisers with heavy fire.

The Empire had flexed its muscles, but the sub-commander's only response had been silence and a sudden volley of fire from his orbital defenses The command deck of the frigate was a frenzy of activity as the Navy officers directed fire against squadrons of traitor torpedo ships that were attempting to form up for a concerted attack against the _Justificatum Dolor._The entirety of the _Sudden Retribution_ shook slightly as the frigate was hit by some scattered shots.

"Assemble the strike force", said Valerian to a nearby acolyte.

The man bowed, and hurried away.

"Oh, and Günther", said the Inquisitor to his manservant, "you'd better bring your laspistol. I have a feeling this could get rather ugly".

Valerian Ztern had gathered the best forces at his disposal in the mustering hall of the _Sudden Retribution_. There stood three companies of Stormtroopers, led by the stalwart Captain Kerrigan; a veteran of countless battles in service of the Inquisition. An informal band of Ztern's most trusted acolytes were there also, armed to the teeth with various weapons of exotic manufacture and appearance. Dwarfing the companies of mortal warriors were Captain Kartox and his ten Astartes – nine of the tactical variety, and one apothecary in white power armour who was tasked with the recovery of the gene-seed of any fallen Space Marines.

The Inquisitor climbed a podium and surveyed the strike force. The hull of the ship was shaken once more by an explosion from the Naval battle that raged outside.

"Warriors of the Inquisition! The day has finally come. Today we march to bring justice to the enemies of the Imperium. I doubt that much quarter will be asked for, since we face heretics of a most vile and callous nature. But If you encounter any that do not offer resistance, ask that they repent their sins against the Emperor. If they do, you have permission to grant them a swift, clean death. Astartes! Will you join the fray?"

To a man, the space marines fell to one knee.

"We ask only to serve, Inquisitor", said Captain Kartox.

"Arise, angels of death. We march to war!"

The assembled host cheered.

"Beseech the machine spirits, so they may convey us across the ether to the enemy's gate!"

There was a mighty outbreak of static through the mustering chamber, and nanoseconds later the strike force vanished... only to appear suddenly in an enormous enclosed courtyard in front of a great ornamented gate.

Around them, towering hive-spires pierced high into the clouds. Terrified nobles in decadent finery scattered in every direction, looking for a refuge from the sudden arrival of the Emperor's wrath. The hive shook suddenly as the orbital bombardment of the defenses began, and moments later, Desdemona Kali and her Stormtrooper legion materialized.

The Inquisitor Lady inspected her war gear and turned toward Valerian Ztern. The thunder of approaching turbine engines could be heard in the distance.

"Inquisitor", said Desdemona Kali. "Here comes the heavy ordinance. This heretic's gate won't hold for long".

Five great Inquisition transports landed and disgorged armor, heavy weapons and even a mighty Baneblade tank. Desdemona Kali strode forward and gave the order to advance.

The Inquisition infantry marched forward in lockstep behind the armor as the threads of the tanks crushed carefully trimmed trees, decadent statues and gurgling fountains. Great meteor trails of smoke and fire illuminated the heavens as the remains of the heretic's orbital defenses fell into the atmosphere.

A few hundred yards before the great gate, an order was issued to halt.

"Heretic! The Holy Inquisition has come. Open the gate, or face the Emperor's wrath!"

There was suddenly a deathly silence, and then massive vox-magnifiers were activated in a storm of feedback.

"His Excellence Ba'rak VonLugosa, Rightful Lord and Sovereign of the Kyberiad Sub-Sector, is not receiving petitioners at this time. Now get ye gone, leach-dog sycophants of the Emperor!"

No orders were required. All heavy weapons fired at once at the fortress wall, the main weapon of the Baneblade tearing a great crater in the ornamented gate.

Automated defense turrets came to life and began spitting death at the Inquisition troops. A hidden side gate opened and gun servitors swarmed out, adding to the carnage. Those unfortunate civilians who had not managed to escape from the great courtyard were cut down without mercy, and soon the ground between the Inquisition line and the fortress wall was a mess of broken bodies, craters and burning wreckage.

In an act of near suicidal courage, an Astartes rushed toward the gate through a storm of gunfire. He carried a great melta siege-charge on his back. He attached the bomb to the gate with the aid of an electromagnet, and somehow managed to dash back to the loyalist line. Moments later, the gate and a large portion of the fortifications were evaporated in a blinding eruption of light.

The guns fell silent for a short while, and a great cheer went up from the Inquisition forces.

Beyond the gate there waited a packed mass of traitor guards and soldiers. Many had been annihilated by the melta bomb, but now the survivors surged forward, screaming as they went.

The Baneblade rolled into the fray, its heavy bolters cutting bloody swathes through the advancing throng. Valerian Ztern stood at the front, shouting encouragement to the troops and picking of heretics by the dozens with his slugthrower. There were hellish screams as wounded traitors were crushed by the Baneblade's tracks.

The walls of the Heretic's stronghold were taken with only moderate losses for the Inquisition.

During the initial battle, the piles of corpses in front of the space where the gate had been had grown into veritable mountains.

Valerian Ztern looked on as Desdemona Kali used her power sword to grant the Emperor's Pardon to some wounded traitor PDF-soldiers. She paused in front of one and looked into his eyes with cold indifference The PDF-soldier coughed up some blood as he tried to speak.

"You can't stop the revolution", he wheezed. "We will throw of the yoke of your evil, corrupt Empire!"

The soldier was only a boy, twenty at most. The first few times he had seen that innocent glow of idealism in a heretic's eyes, Ztern had been shocked and surprised. But now, when he had long since learned what sinister forces always lurked behind the corruption of innocents such as this boy, he felt only a vague sadness.

"You know not of what you speak", said Desdemona Kali. "None can stand against the might of the Empire. Repent now, and you will join the Emperor in the afterlife".

The boy coughed up some more blood.

"Many will have to suffer and die so that the next generation can be free of you. You'll never catch Lord VonLugosa... "

"Heretic!" cried Desdemona Kali and plunged her sword into the soldier's heart. The light went out in his eyes.

"You should have kept him alive for interrogation", said Ztern. "If the arch-heretic has fled, perhaps he knew where".

"It matters not", said Lady Kali. "This place must be cleansed".

"Very well", said Ztern. "We had better send in the sappers. The inner courtyard is probably full of mines and traps".

Groups of Inquisition Engineers led by tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus climbed the smoldering rubble and began searching the inner courtyard. Beyond was the forbidding Gothic facade of the Sub-Sector Commander's palace. It was a truly impressive arcology, stretching far above the other spires of the enormous Hive Gothia, which was thought to be one of the greatest in the entire sector. Nobody knew how many toiled in the hive-city's vast manufactoriums, but they probably numbered in the billions.

There was suddenly a loud explosion, and a cry went up:

"Death vapor!"

"Respirators", Valerian Ztern shouted. "May the Emperor protect us!"

A few stormtroopers who had fumbled with their masks chortled and fell to the ground, writhing in terrifying spasms. Blood was gushing from every orifice in their bodies, but nothing could be done except to grant them the Emperor's Mercy. Ztern had donned his intimidating helmet, and his manservant Günther wore a crude but efficient gas-mask.

Ztern could hear Lady Kali through her voxcaster, reciting a litany.

"Emperor, protect us from the evil machinations of the heretics – their foul stenches are deadly anathema to all your faithful..."

"Advance", Valerian Ztern ordered across all Inquisition bands of the vox-link. "Purge the unclean. Cleanse the heretic".

Stormtroopers with flamers lay down a rolling defensive cordon, and behind them the rest of the detachment moved toward the main gate of the palace. The field of carnage before the gates was partially obscured by a haze of pus-yellow Death Vapor and the smoke from burning traitor corpses.

It took forty-five minutes of continuous heavy weapons fire to bring down the gigantic gates of the Palace. Beyond was a great hallway, with pillars so tall that they rivaled cathedral spires. The place was clearly built to impress the subjects of one who commanded the fate of entire worlds. But the hallway was curiously devoid of any enemy presence.

"Sergeant Kartox. Take half your squad and five companies of Stormtroopers. Sweep the palace. I and Inquisitor Kali will proceed toward the Inner Sanctum. Captain Kerrigan, you will go with Sergeant Kartox".

"Orders received", said the Astartes Sergeant across the voxlink. "Battle Brother Klang – squad division procedure Epsilon. For the Emperor – cleanse and purge".

In the labyrinthine corridors and chambers of the palace, the Inquisitors encountered only scattered resistance. The antechamber of the Sub-Sector Commander's personal office, which was ordinarily teeming with thousands of Administratum clerks and petitioners, was completely deserted. Inquisitor Ztern ordered one of the Astartes forward. The space marine smote the great door to the office repeatedly with his great armored fist.

"Open! In the name of the Emperor, and the Holy Inquisition – open!"

Suddenly, and to the mutual surprise of the Inquisition host, the great pneumatic double doors slowly began to part.

Beyond was a chamber, at the center of which a chair of office stood, surrounded by many holo-screens and servo skulls. Around the chair there was a system of trenches filled with cogitators and other arcane tools of administration. Ordinarily they would have been swarming with Administratum officials and clerks, but now they were empty.

A lone cloaked figure sat in the chair.

"I have spent my entire life in service to the Imperium. I have overseen endless toil to meet the quotas and fill the tithes. I have fought countless wars, and seen innumerable lives sacrificed for the Emperor. I would gladly have given my own. And now you force your way into my palace, bringing accusations".

It was the man in the chair of office who's plaintive voice echoed through the chamber. Valerian Ztern was surprised by how utterly sincere Ba'rak VonLugosa actually sounded. He could detect only weariness and grief in the administrator's voice.

Desdemona Kali drew her sword and started walking with resolute steps toward the chair of the heretic. The rest of the retinue followed.

"Ba'rak VonLugosa, for your many crimes of conspiracy against the Imperium and the God Emperor of Man, I hereby place you under custody of the Inquisition. Submit, or face my righteous wrath".

"Crimes of conspiracy? Were I not so tired of the likes of you, I would laugh", said Ba'rak VonLugosa. He looked like a tired man, old and bent, with many bionic replacements granted to him by the tech-priests. But his eyes seemed to burn with fervor and conviction.

"You have no right to question the verdict of the Inquisition, heretic". Inquisitor Kali pointed the tip of her power sword toward the Sub-Sector Commander.

"Perhaps not. But I will not remain silent! With the power I had at my fingertips, I could have created a paradise for Man. Yes; a paradise. And what has been in store for my subjects? Endless toil. Endless taxation. Endless war. For them, death is a release – a _release_ from a life of slavery and pain. All in the name of a corpse that rots on a golden chair half across the galaxy! I cannot stand it any more. I will not stand it!"

"Ba'rak VonLugosa", said Ztern. "One who has been promoted so high in service of the Imperium should know better than to utter such heresy and blasphemy! You know that it is ultimately the light of the Emperor that protects us from the darkness, the chaos and the xenos threat. The price is steep, but it is the only way. You must submit now, or face judgment here".

"I will not submit", said VonLugosa.

"Then you will be submitted", said Desdemona Kali. She strode forward, and placed the palm of her castigation glove on VonLugosa's forehead. He twitched in agony and gritted his teeth as white lightning ran across his body, but did not make a single gesture of resistance.

Suddenly, a hollow, disembodied voice rang through the chamber.

"You must stop that at once", it said.

The first one to display any reaction was Tlingast – Ztern's personal Astropath. He began to claw at his face, as if he was trying to get at something that was beneath it. Then Ztern felt something too – it was like a thousand white-hot scalpels dissecting his brain. He stumbled backwards, and fell into one of the Administratum trenches. The pain was such that he could only barely struggle to his feet and witness what was going on above.

Almost the entire retinue was on their knees, on all fours or on the ground, screaming and writhing in awful agony. The only ones who could stand up were the Astartes, but the psychic inhibitors in their helmets and their many years of mental discipline could only block out a fraction of this massive mental assault. One of them tore his helmet off and started to gouge out his own eyes as his powerful voice howled in torment.

"The heretic", moaned Desdemona Kali. "He... must not live".

One of the Astartes, who had dropped his bolter, managed to draw his combat knife. With a super human effort of will he threw himself forward and plunged the blade into VonLugosa's chest, before collapsing motionless to the floor.

The psychic assault intensified. Bolts of ectoplasm played between the members of the strike force as Inquisitor Kali was lifted off the ground by an invisible force. Jets of blood spayed out from her eyes, nose and mouth as her body was torn asunder from inside and then slammed hard into the floor. The last thing Ztern remembered seeing was a strange hooded figure coming into view, levitated three feet above the floor.

He was awoken by a stern slap to the cheek. As his vision cleared, a strangely soft featured face with a prominent nose came into focus.

"Inquisitor? You are alive. Good. You can stand up, if you wish. Remember that my psyker can rip your soul from your body in an instant, if you try anything foolish".

Valerian Ztern was able to struggle to his feet, mostly because of the assistance of his power armor. Before him stood a rather smallish man clad in a discrete suit of carpace. His right hand was an exquisitely crafted bionic replacement.

Ztern struggled to remember – he had seen the man's face before, but he couldn't quite recall where.

"I am Inquisitor Atikus Noille. We've never had the pleasure before, I'm afraid".

The entire detachment, including hundreds of stormtroopers, were still a jumbled mess on the floor. The body of VonLugosa sat motionless in the chair of office, the combat knife of the Astartes protruding from its chest.

Ztern could almost not keep his mind together. "You are assumed to be dead. I saw your holopic and name on the wall of the Conclave Assembly Chamber".

"Yes", said Noille. "I've taken extreme measures to instill that belief. It wasn't easy, by any means. Not by any means at all".

"If this is your doing, then you are a heretic. You have caused the death of loyal Imperial servants", said Ztern.

Atikus Noille smiled slightly and gestured at the robed figure Ztern had seen at the end. Its hood now removed, he could see that it was a man with a gaunt face, his eyes aglow with the energies of the warp.

"Isn't he magnificent? He is the highest grade unbound psyker I've ever encountered. I've had to employ some rather unorthodox methods to ensure his loyalty".

The renegade Inquisitor lifted one of Desdemona Kali's limp arms from the floor with the tip of his boot, and then let it fall back.

"Now this one... That was almost personal. Have you ever encountered such a single minded meddlesome busy-body? Pity about the Astartes, however. Such fine examples of what humanity could become. All I can say that my psyker is more of an atomic than a surgical instrument".

Ztern pressed a small transmitter beacon that he had implanted in his palm, saying a silent prayer to the Emperor that the renegade Inquisitor wouldn't notice.

"I suppose you are keeping me alive just so you can gloat about your plans", he said. "Just what I'd expect from a heretic".

Noille's soft eyes looked into Ztern's.

"Not at all. I was hoping that you would live. In fact I instructed him not to hurt you... too much. I've kept an eye on you, and you seem to be an insightful man. I believe you still have a part to play, when it comes to the fate of the galaxy".

"And what fate would that be", said Ztern.

"Strange that you should ask. Humanity's fate, of course. Humanity's ascendance. You see, we have become weak, and the only thing that breeds strength is adversity. Some say that heresy should be eradicated. I say that it should be allowed to breed. Many times through the history of the Imperium, ordinary citizens have become saints and martyrs when they rose up – on their own accord - against heretics and xenos. They grew, and became greater servants of the Empire than you or I could ever hope to be. There are some in the Inquisition who agree with me. But not enough. It is up to individuals like me to ensure that heresy grows, and that inhibiting elements like Inquisitor Desdemona Kali are removed".

Ztern looked at Atikus Noille with an expression of utter disbelief.

"But that is insanity! It goes against the basic tenets of the Inquisition It is my firm belief that the Emperor himself would destroy you utterly, were he here".

"The Emperor", said Atikus Noille with soft disdain. "Have you ever seen the Emperor? Spoken with him? Who knows what the Adeptus Custodes on Terra are guarding. Perhaps it is only a myth, or a shriveled and impotent relic of a bygone era. Perhaps there isn't anything there at all!"

"Heresy", screamed Ztern. "Heresy of the highest degree! I know that the Emperor protects, and guides me in all my actions. The Emperor's Tarot is only a small part of the evidence I could present to you".

"The Emperor's Tarot. It reminds me of shamen on feral worlds, throwing bones and sticks on the ground, and then interpreting meaning into the patterns they create. The Tarot gives no higher guidance than your own wishes and desires. It is a superstition – no more".

Valerian Ztern scowled with contempt. "I will listen to no more of this heretic talk. Kill me now, and get it over with. I will be with my Emperor; and when you die, your soul will be fodder for the Ruinous Powers".

Atikus Noille sighed. "That is sad. I was really hoping we could see eye to e-"

The renegade was cut short, as he gawked at the sight of his psyker servant being impaled on a spear with a strange greenish tint. Gibarius, Valerian Ztern's assassin, materialized in a cloud of static behind the psyker. He stared in disbelief at the lance that protuded from his chest for a few moments, before his head was lopped of by a blade of cold Necron metal.


	3. Chapter 3

The assassin turned his eerie skull like face toward Atikus Noille, his body rearing like a cobra ready to strike.

"Stand back", shouted the renegade and produced his Inquisitorial Rosette. "I am an Inqusitor of the holy Ordos. I must not be harmed!"

A strange look of hesitation came over the assassin's face, his motions frozen. Then Valerian Ztern remembered, and died a little bit inside.

"How ironic", said Atikus Noille. "You've conditioned him against harming individuals carrying the Inquisitorial Rosette. The Emperor protects, indeed!"

Ztern snarled with hatred. He wished he had the strength to strangle the heretic to death, but the assault of the psyker had drained him to the point that he hardly could lift a finger, despite his power armour.

"When I get my hands on you, heretic, your suffering will become a legend throughout the entire segmentum".

"Hm. Yes", said Atikus Noille, and drew a bolt pistol from a side holster. "I'm affraid I must be going now. This place will soon get much more unwelcome guests than you. Yes – much more unwelcome..."

Atikus Noille backed away, aiming his bolt pistol at Valerian Ztern until he reached a small side door. He entered it, and vanished. Ztern fell to his knees and clasped his hands, begging the Emperor's forgiveness for his shortcomings.

"I am sorry Master", said Gibarius. "He seemed like a very interesting person to kill. Do you want me to make chase?"

"You remember what happened", said Ztern. "It is of no use. Besides, it is very likely that he has already left the planet".

Mere minutes later, Sargeant Kartox and the rest of the strike force arrived at the scene. All but the Astartes seemed shocked and horrified by the carnage, and the massacred body of Inquisitor Desdemona Kali. Some of her acolytes began to weep openly.

"What occured here?" said the Astartes Sargeant.

"It was all a trap. Laid by a renegade Inquisitor by the name of Atikus Noille. He had a psyker of immense power with him. It was he who caused this... But what of your Battle-Brothers? Are they dead?"

The Apotechary began to sweep the room with one of his devices, its arcane machine-rays monitoring the life status of all in the chamber.

"Three will live but have suffered massive neurological shock. But Brothers Klaus and Grimnir have fallen".

"What about the others?" said Ztern.

"All of the Stormtroopers have been ripped to shreds from the inside. They are dead. I've never seen a psychich assault of such magnitude. But there is one still alive, here". The Apothechary pointed at one of the bodies on the floor. "I believe it is one of Lady Kali's acolytes".

Brother Klang was standing over one of his fallen brothers, the barrel of his heavy bolter still smoldering hot from the fighting.

"Honor the fallen", he said.

"Honor the fallen", said the Apothechary, and began to remove the armour of the dead space marines in preparation for the harvest of their gene-seed.

Sargeant Kartox knelt down beside the body of Desdemona Kali. "Here lies a true hero of the Inqusition, and of the Imperium", he said in a solemn voice. "May her soul be granted eternal bliss at the Emperor's side. She knew the true meaning of the proverb: 'only in death does duty end'".

"The Inquisition has suffered a grave loss", said Ztern. "We must take consolation in the fact that she gave her life knowing that the arch-heretic VonLugosa died by her hand".

_But what of the one who survived,_ he thought to himself.

He instructed two of the Stormtroopers to life the body up. It was a young, innocent looking girl, clad in a suit of light carpace armour. She could be no more than eighteen years old. Her skin was very smooth, and her long blonde hair fell in a single braid.

"Strange. Very strange indeed. Can you determine why she survived, Apothecary?"

"No, Inquisitor", said the Apotechary, scanning one of his devices. "Physically, she is a normal human in every way. No signs of corruption".

"As I said – very strange". The Inquisitor stroked his chin. "But we cannot linger here. Before he escaped, the renegade Atikus Noille said something that gave me cause for grave concern. Besides, he will try to flee from the system, and we must give chase while his warp trail is still hot. Captain Kerrigan! Has the palace teleportarium been secured?"

"Yes Lord", said the Captain. "It was foremost among our objectives".

"Good. Take as much materiel and as many of the dead as you can carry. Move the troops to the transports and leave for my frigate as quickly as you are able to. I and the Astartes will use the teleportarium. By the Emperor – make haste!"

Not much later, Valerian Ztern was in the sickbay of the _sudden retribution_, where the medi-servitor had just managed to revive the young former acolyte of Inquisitor Kali. Ztern felt a strange sense of urgency about the girl, even though there seemed to be more pressing matters at hand.

"What is your name, girl?" said Ztern.

The girl sat up on her cot and looked hesitantly at the Inquisitor.

"I am called Karisma", she said softly.

"You were in the employ of Inquisitor Desdemona Kali?"

"Yes", said Karisma. "I serve her still, my Lord".

"Lady Kali has fallen in battle against the heretics".

"I am very sad to hear that, my Lord", said Karisma. "The Lady was always very kind to me. She gave me good food and a bed to sleep in. I used to eat rats. And sewer slugs. Have you ever eaten slug?"

"No", said Ztern.

The girl had a decent enough command of low gothic, but Ztern could detect a hint of underhive dreg-talk in her speech. Lady Kali had probably taught her to speak properly, he thought.

"Do you have any special skills? Anything that could be of use to the Inquisition?"

"Special", said Karisma. "Yes. The Lady always said I was special. She took care of me".

Suddenly, large tears started to roll down her cheeks.

"This is no time for weeping, girl. There will be plenty of time for that later. Tell me now. What is so special about you?"

Karisma tried to dry her tears with the backs of her hands. "Lady Kali said it is because I see the other world".

"The other world?" said Ztern – unbelief in his voice. "You mean... the warp?"

"Yes. The other world, where the monsters live. The monsters are very dangerous. You always have to hide from them. Otherwise they will take you, and eat your spirit, or make you crazy. Can you see the monsters too?"

"You are a Psyker!? Why have you not been soulbound?"

"I don't know what that is, Lord. Besides, Lady Kali taught me that it is impolite to answer a question with a question". The girl smiled proudly at Ztern, as if she had given the correct answer in a collegia class.

"Why I aught to - Hm. Now; it is very important that you obey me. You must never leave my side, and you mustn't do anything naughty. Nothing like the bad man did to Lady Kali and the Stormtroopers".

"You don't have to talk to me like that, Lord Ztern", said Karisma. "I'm not a baby, you know".

Ztern tried very hard to contain his anger. "Very well... Karisma. If you do as you are told, you will be given adult considerations. That is to say, you must not use any of your special powers. Not unless I say so. And you must obey. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Lord", said Karisma.

"We have things to do", said Ztern."We must go to the command bridge and speak to the Navigator".

They left the sickbay and entered a corridor that was fairly broad and well lit – a clear sign that they were on one of the officer's decks.

"I still don't quite understand how you survived, Günther", said Ztern as he walked.

"It... It wasn't my intention to displease you, Master", whimpered the cowering servant.

"How exactly did you survive? Wait – you need not speak. At the first sign of danger, you scurried off and hid like a frightened little mouse".

Günther's lower lip began to tremble with fear.

"You have no backbone, Günther. That is reason why you are a servant. Now, go and clean my power armour. There's quite a lot of blood and gore on it".

"As you wish Lord", said Günther and hurried away, obviously relieved. Ztern and Karisma entered an express elevator that took them up to the command bridge of the frigate.

At his core, Valerian Ztern often felt that he was and would always remain an officer of the Imperial Navy. For countless generations, the eldest sons of his ancient line had always served in what Ztern regarded as one of the best and proudest institutions of the Imperium. His father had been captain of a light cruiser. He had been in line for a command of his own when fate led him into the Inquisition's fold.

In the Navy, everything was kept in good order, and everyone knew their place. It could not be denied that death often lurked only a heartbeat away. It could come in many forms – the cold strangulation of the void as the hull was breached, or a flash of light and an instant of pain as a plasma generator overloaded and the rampant machine-spirit vaporized half the ship. But it was a good, clean death. Not to mention – a death in service of the Emperor.

The command bridge was a place where Ztern felt at home. Rows of officers in pristeen Navy uniforms at their stations. The helmsman, steady as a rock behind the rudder. The captain in his chair, a commander beyond all questioning, and master of all he surveyed. Even the dozen or so ratings who were polishing the command bridge deck looked glorious to Ztern.

"Captain", he said. "Anything new to report?"

The Captain, a greying but still hale veteran of the Navy, stood up and gave a curt salute.

"Inquisitor", he said. "The _Pride of Hydraphur _received some damage during the engagement, but repairs are progressing well. _Justificatum Dolor_ reports only light damage".

"Exellent, Captain", said Ztern. "Navigator! Have you detected anything yet?"

"I'm affraid not, Inquisitor". The Navigator was a thin, oddly-featured man with almost translucent skin. A strange contraption was strapped to his head, a multitude of tubes and wires connecting it to different devices on the bridge. Ztern knew little of the arcane practices of the Navigator houses, but he had been told that their helmets somewhow magnified the vision of the navigator's third eye.

"You must keep a very sharp lookout. Everything depends on it!"

"Yes Inquisitor", said the Navigator, his voice somewhat dreamy from his lucid trance-state.

From the bridge there was a splendid view of High Orbit above Atopos XIV. Some remains of the orbital defences still revolved around themselves, and a great plume of fire stood out from the starboard side of the cruiser _Pride of Hydraphur. _There had probably been fires on several decks, and the crew was now following standard procedure, venting the fire into the void. The border of night was sweeping across the surface of the hive-world, and Ztern could see the faint glow of fire in the places where the orbital bombardment had been most intense.

"New contact! Starboard high rimward, fourteen thousand kilomiles. I count fifteen, Captain". A sperical holo-display flickered into view above the command table, with fifteen glaring purple triangles appearing at its edge.

"Cogitator indicates target designation xenos – eldar" a tech-priest babbled. "Five cruiser class, remainder support".

The Captain nodded to his second.

"We shall be to quarters", the officer yelled. Klaxons began to blare. A magnascope dropped down from the ceiling, and the Captain surveyed the new arrivals to Imperial space.

"Corsairs", he muttered.

_Damnation,_ Valerian Ztern thought to himself. _This is what Noille meant by unwelcome guests. Its rather ingenious, when you think about it. The Sub-Sector commander was only a string puppet, __dancing at the whim of that renegade. We smashed down the defenses of Atopos XIV. It was what he wanted all along. Now the Dark Eldar will turn this planet into their private charnel house. It will be an atrocity beyond description..._

Inquisitor Ztern took the magnascope from the captain and surveyed the fast approaching corsair fleet. The sleek, sinister vessels had a jagged appearance and seemed to somehow radiate menace. The capital ships were launching squadrons of smaller raiding craft. It looked as though they were giving birth to broods of vicious predatory young, who wheeled and rolled in anticipation of the slaughter to come. Ztern knew that corsair vessels were faster and more maneuverable than the Imperial ships, and as they were badly outnumbered, the superior firepower of the Imperial Navy vessels would mean next to nothing.

"I've seen corsairs before", said the Captain. "But never an armada of this size".

"Neither have I", said Ztern.

A signal sounded out of the bridge voxcasters. "This is Lord Inquisitor Offenbach", a voice crackled. "In the Emperor's name – assume a defensive formation. Do not let a single enemy vessel through!"

Ztern grabbed an ether transmitter mouthpiece and spoke into it. "Lord Offenbach – this is Inquisitor Ztern speaking".

"What is it, Inquisitor", the crackling voice replied.

"My Lord – we are over matched. I strongly suggest that we make a strategic withdrawal, gather reinforcements, and then counterattack when the odds are more to our advantage".

There was a brief silence, and then Lord Offenbach spoke again.

"Retreat in the face of these pirates, this xenos filth? Unthinkable. In the name of the Emperor – hold fast!"

A signal sounded, signifying that the transmission had ended. On the holo display Ztern could clearly see that the Dark Eldar were focusing the main thrust of their initial assault on the crippled cruiser, _Pride of Hydraphur. _Ztern knew that the damaged warship could not withstand more than a few salvos from the dark lance weapons of the corsair ships. He felt the crushing weight of an inevitable defeat on his shoulders. First the _Pride of Hydraphur_ would be destroyed, and then the Dark Eldar would pick them off one by one.

The raiders and attack ships of the Dark Eldar fleet were now coming within visual range. Missiles and torpedoes trailed toward the Imperial ships, which had established a tight defensive formation. A frantic dogfight broke out as the Imperial fighters engaged the enemy. The void shields of the _Sudden Retribution _flickered as a torpedo struck. Then Ztern saw the corsair cruisers, circling around the Imperial formation like sharks closing in for the kill.

"Captain – we must engage the enemy at close range", said Ztern. "That will take away some of their advantage. Engage that frigate. Bring us up at broadside range".

The exchange of fire between the two fleets was beginning to intensify. Ztern could now clearly see every detail of the Dark Eldar frigate, and the Sudden Retribution shook as it was hit by enemy fire. The shooting from the corsair ship was frantic, but also unfocused and undisciplined. A dark lance shot hit close to the command bridge, causing lights to go out and a fire to break out. Frantic orders were shouted through the chaos and smoke. "Hold steady men", cried the ship's Confessor. "Think of the Emperor!"

They were now alongside the corsair frigate at midships. "Fire!" Ztern shouted, and a devastating barrage was launched with Navylike discipline and precision. The flimsy armor of the pirate ship could not withstand such a well coordinated bombardment. Huge chunks of the Dark Eldar vessel's hull were torn off by the broadside, and the Imperial ship was now so close to the foe that Ztern could watch members of the enemy crew being sucked out into the void. For an instant he could see one of them hurdling past the command bridge; his pale, hateful face frozen in an expression of terror. There was a series of explosions, and the corsair ship was blown to pieces. The cheers from the crew of the _Sudden Retribution _were so loud that the entire craft seemed to reverberate with the noise.

"The corsairs are concentrating their fire on the _Pride of Hydraphur_", said the Captain in a grave voice. All who were on the command bridge watched in constipated silence as the rays of the corsair dark lances played along the hull of the Imperial cruiser. Great jets of flame shot out from several breaches.

"We must maneuver to support", said the second officer desperately.

"Fool", said Ztern in a poisonous tone of voice. "That would only add to our losses this day. We must hold our position".


	4. Chapter 4

In the Astartes ready room, Sergeant Kartox and his Battle-Brothers were watching the clash between the two fleets unfold. It was possible to gain a full overview of the frenzied fleet action on a holo-display in the center of the room, but Sergeant Kartox was looking out into space through a great reinforced window. The _Pride of Hydraphur_ was now little more than a black, rudderless wreck surrounded by a cloud of debris. The course of the great cruiser was such that it would probably fall into the atmosphere of Atopos XIV within a few hours, causing untold devastation on the planet's surface.

"How do you assess the battle, Sergeant?" said Battle-brother Klang.

"We are holding them off for now. But I believe it is only a matter of time before our force is overwhelmed. Lord Offenbach seems very eager to sacrifice his own life, and those of many others, in service of the Imperium".

"A pointless sacrifice", said Battle-brother Oskar – one of the younger Space Marines in the squadron. Kartox turned abruptly toward him. "You are in fact correct, Battle-Brother", he said. "In this case we should withdraw, regroup, and wait for reinforcements. It is the only sound strategy. But I wouldn't quote me on that in front of an Inquisitor".

The other Astartes chuckled. Then, one of the large triangles on the holo-display that signified a capital ship began to flash bright yellow.

"Sergeant", said Battle-Brother Oskar. "The cogitator indicates that the _Justificatum Dolor_ is now in a vulnerable position. The corsairs are forming up to attack".

"The auguries of the machine spirit are seldom false", said Kartox. "Bring up a holoview of the vessel".

The Astartes watched as the _Justificatum Dolor_ unleashed a storm of ordinance against the gathering Dark Eldar ships. To Kartox, there was something strangely alluring about the corsair vessels – some sort of jagged, menacing eroticism that stirred a part of what remained of his humanity. He reminded himself of the fact that all Eldar were sworn arch-enemies of his chapter, and silently recited a litany against the xenos taint.

The cruiser _Wrath of Tellus _was moving in to support, all its weapons firing at full capacity. But it was not enough. The corsairs were targeting the engines of the Inquisition barge. There was a series of explosions on board the great Imperial vessel.

"She is dead in the void, Sergeant", said Battle-Brother Klang. One of the Dark Eldar cruisers was maneuvering closer, and then a boarding tube, mostly resembling some kind of obscene proboscis, began to extend from its prow toward the _Justificatum Dolor_. The tube attached itself to the hull by means of the black artifice of the Dark Eldar. It looked as though some vile parasite had begun to feed from the Inquisition Barge. A signal sounded, and the voice of Inquisitor Ztern was heard through the voxcaster.

"Sergeant Kartox – you are probably aware that the corsairs are boarding Lord Offenbach's ship. We must counterattack. I suggest that you and your Astartes spearhead our advance".

"I concur", said Kartox. "Battle-Brothers – rituals of readiness. We muster in the teleportarium in two minutes".

The Astartes were already in their power armor. They rushed to the armory and began to burden themselves with as much ammunition and grenades as they could carry. They knew that combat aboard voidships was often a brutal close quarters affair where a bolter clip seldom lasted for long. They would probably have to resort to chainswords and combat knives before their bloody chores were finished.

A few minutes later, the Astartes materialized out of the warp in the austere teleportarium of the _Justificatum Dolor_. Since only one of the injured space marines had recovered from the damage inflicted upon him by Atikus Noille's rogue psyker, the squad was almost at half strength. When the bulkhead door opened, some sort of strange miasma of a pale greenish hue billowed in from the corridor beyond.

"Sergeant", said the Apothecary, "it is a gas of unknown composition. Probably of xenos origin".

"It is torture gas", said Kartox. "The Haemonculi of the Dark Eldar concoct it in endless variations, but it always results in a protracted and painful death. Brother Oskar – deploy the skull probe".

"Heretics, Xenos", muttered Brother Klang. "They all lack honor".

"Not to worry, Battle-Brother", said Kartox as he viewed the images transmitted from the skull probe, superimposed over his normal auto-senses. "You will get to unleash the Emperor's vengeance on this xenos filth soon enough". At first he saw only empty corridors, but after a hundred yards or so the first victims of the torture gas came into view. Their bodies were contorted into disturbing and unnatural positions that seemed to defy the limitations of the human physique. Their faces were paralyzed in insane expressions of horror. Even as a veteran Sergeant of the White Guardians, Kartox could not quite grow accustomed to the perverse practices of the Dark Eldar. Had he been fully capable of experiencing fear, he would probably have felt it now.

For a brief moment, a ghostly shape flickered across the skull probe's field of vision.

"Advance", sargeant Kartox ordered across the vox-link."Squad pattern beta, checkered. Cleanse and purge".

The squad moved through a hallway littered with bodies. "Sergeant", said the apothecary. "These voidsmen are alive!"

_Yes,_ thought Sergeant Kartox. _They are alive. The foul alchemy of the Dark Eldar has trapped them in a comatose dream-state, where every hour is like a year of constant and unbearable torture. Their metabolisms have slowed down, so that they may remain in this state for weeks without dying of thirst or starvation._

"There is not enough time to help them. We must focus on our objectives. Stay sharp, Battle-Brothers".

There was a sudden outbreak of gunfire, screaming and explosions ahead of the squad. Through the flashes and the haze Kartox could see emaciated shapes clad in armor of perverse designs, bedecked with sharp thorns and blades. Brother Klang's heavy bolter began its howl of destruction. One of the Dark Eldar had his legs cut of from beneath him, and another was blown completely to pieces, showering the surroundings with gore and pieces of pale flesh. Through the vox-link Kartox heard a wordless expression of pain and surprise. He spun around, and saw a sinister shape materializing out of the shadows, its blade of plundered wraithbone already wedged in between the cuirass and shoulder guard of Brother Oskar. Kartox hewed with his chainsword but sliced only air as the Mandrake somersaulted backwards. Brother Oskar threw himself forward and managed to pin the hateful creature to the floor beneath the bulk of his power armor. There was a brief but desperate struggle before the Space Marine succeeded in driving his combat knife into the chest of the monstrosity, which burst and melted into a puddle of a pitch black, tar-like substance.

The Dark Eldar were returning fire. The corridor was filled by a storm of splinter rifle fire – it sounded like a thousand panes of glass breaking at once, but the corsair's weapons were not powerful enough to penetrate the Power Armor of the Astartes quite so easily. One of the Space Marines lobbed a grenade down the corridor and there was a flash of light and a visceral thud. But the Dark Eldar had already vanished, the echoes of their mocking staccato laughter fading away into the distance. Battle-Brother Oskar rose to his feet and tried to wipe the disgusting, oily remains of the Mandrake from his Power Armour.

"This is Inquisitor Ztern", heard Kartox through his vox-link. "Astartes squadron – you must try to cut off the corsair's access to reinforcements. Otherwise we'll never get this xenos scum off this vessel".

"Affirmative", said Sergeant Kartox. "We will attempt to sever their boarding tube. How are you advancing, Inquisitor?"

"Slowly. We are encountering stiff resistance. May the Emperor be with you, Sergeant".

With the aid of his war-scanner, Sergeant Kartox led his Squadron toward the point where the Dark Eldar had breached the hull. It was a bloody business as the Space Marines fought their way through a labyrinth of shadowy hallways, chambers and corridors. Here and there they found places where the Stormtroopers had put up resistance, but inevitably they had all been slaughtered by the bloodthirsty corsairs. The Astartes cut down Dark Eldar by the dozens with their bolters, but by the time they had reached their objective, only Kartox and four of his Space marines remained. There was no time to mourn the fallen.

The compartment where the Dark Eldar boarding ram had punched through the hull was a mess of debris and broken bodies. A ring of cruel barbs held the corsair vessel attached to the _Justificatum Dolor, _almost in the manner of a giant grappling hook. Battle-Brother Oskar knelt down and began to construct a makeshift bomb by attaching several plasma grenades together.

"I request the honor of carrying out this assignment, Sergeant". It was Brother Hanuman, one of the senior Astartes of the company, who spoke.

"So be it, Battle-Brother", said Sergeant Kartox. As Brother Hanuman grabbed the bundle of grenades, they saw a new wave of corsairs in sinister armor and barbed helmets begin to surge up the length of the tube. "Covering fire", Sergeant Kartox ordered, and then the Space Marine carrying the bomb began to run down the boarding tube. As he ran, Dark Eldar were cut down to the left and right of him by the overpowering fire of the Astartes bolters. The Space Marines watched tensely as a leader among the corsairs appeared, wielding a great splinter cannon. Upon the spikes of his armor the shriveled heads of human infants were impaled, and the face mask of his helmet was a snarling demon face. Even the Armor of an Astartes, among the strongest in the galaxy, could not withstand the velocity of the mono-molecular shards of his evil weapon. Brother Hanuman fell to the ground, mortally wounded; a fraction of a second later there was a bright light and a sound like thunder.

Sergeant Kartox knew little of the workings of the vessels of the Xenos corsairs, but to him it looked like the plasma explosion must have ruptured something vital in the cruiser's foul machine spirit. There was a sudden chain reaction that spread into the ship itself, and moments later a series of gigantic explosions tore the prow of the corsair cruiser to pieces. The air started rushing out of the chamber into space, and the Space Marines activated the magnetic anchors in the soles of their boots to avoid getting sucked out to the cold void.

"One Space Marine for a xenos cruiser", said Brother Klang. "A most advantageous exchange".

"Indeed", said Kartox. "The name of Brother Hanuman will surely be entered into the annals of our chapter as that of a true hero".

The remaining Space Marines left the now airless chamber and sealed the airtight bulkhead doors behind themselves. Scattered gunfire and explosions still echoed through the corridors of the _Justificatum Dolor, _but the corsairs who still remained on the ship were cut off from their reinforcements, and had nowhere to run. Sergeant Kartox received a distress call from Inquisitor Ztern – the remainder of the corsair boarders were still a threat to be reckoned with, and had managed to split the Inquisition force in half.

The Space Marines hurried through the ruined, corpse-strewn innards of the Inquisition barge. In some places the Imperial dead lay in heaps, and in others the Dark Eldar had submitted them to slow torturous deaths by flaying, disembowelment, or worse. Even in the heat of battle, the Dark Eldar could not quell their thirst for the suffering of other beings.

As the remains of the Space Marine Squad moved through a shadowy colonnade, Kartox gave the order to halt. Something stirred in the darkness ahead.

"Sergeant", said Brother Klang, "There is movement behind".

"I know. We are surrounded. Now comes the true test of our mettle, Battle-Brothers".

Ahead, Sergeant Kartox saw the dark outlines of great beasts congealing out of the darkness. Their eyes seemed to glow with unholy energy. They were shaped somewhat like great mastiffs, yet their forms appeared to shift and mutate as if they conformed to the worst fears and nightmares of the spectator. A shrill yet harsh voice echoed from behind.

"The game is through, mon-keigh", it said in a lilting accent. "I must say you've fought well, though. Surrender, and you will be granted glorious deaths in our arenas".

"Xenos filth", Brother Klang roared. "Come closer, and be cast into the oblivion that awaits all your kind!"

Snickering and mocking sighs of disappointment echoed out of the unnatural shadows. There was a peculiar whistling sound that seemed to cut into the very soul, and suddenly the warp-beasts hurled themselves forward with supernatural speed. A few were brought down by well placed bolter rounds, but most of them lived to overwhelm the Astartes in a tide of ravenous jaws and tearing, razor sharp claws. In the Shadows, the Dark Eldar sighed and groaned with perverse delight.

Sargeant Kartox cleft one of the beasts fully in half from snout to tail with his chainsword, but then another one caught his sword arm between its slavering jaws. It was like of a vise of such power that even the post human strength of a veteran Astartes could not shake the beast loose. Kartox felt its fangs slowly digging through his armor, into his forearm. He placed his bolt pistol to the head of the unwholesome beast and pulled the trigger, knowing that it was his last round. It exploded and splattered the white Power Armor of the struggling Apothecary with black blood and gore. Three more of the monsters jumped Kartox, one of them impaling itself on his buzzing chainsword. But the momentum of the remaining two was so powerful that Kartox was toppled off his feet. One of the warp beast was trying to tear his helmet off with its teeth.

Had he been able to watch, Sargeant Kartox would have seen a strange, almost skeletal shape dropping down from the ceiling onto one of the warp beasts. In moments it was sliced into bloody fragments, and then all Kartox could see was a flurry of green static, frantic movement and hacking, piercing blades. It took only a couple of handfuls of heartbeats before the warp beasts had been cut to pieces with almost surgical precision. Cries of horror and dismay were heard from the Dark Eldar.

For an instant it seemed as though time had frozen, and Sergeant Kartox stared straight into the eyes of the half-xenos assassin. He was dressed only in tatters, and in places his flesh had been torn asunder, exposing the glittering green metal endoskeleton below. Then the assassin Gibarius vanished once more in a blur of motions, and there were awful cries of surprise and terror from the unseen corsairs. A severed Dark Eldar head head rolled into view, the blank gaze of death in its eyes. Those of the Corsairs who managed to escape death at the hands of Gibarius fled screaming, never to be seen again.

Sargeant Kartox quickly rose to his feet and looked at his half ruined bracer. Miraculously, all the Space Marines had survived the frenzied attack of the warp beasts.

The unnatural gloom brought by the Dark Eldar began to clear, and Gibarius turned toward the Astartes as the blades of animated metal began to retract back into his palms.

"Assassin", said Kartox and nodded curtly at Gibarius.

"There's no need to feel grateful", said Gibarius. "I didn't mean to save you – it was just a coincidence. I had been stalking them for a while. Besides, I know I didn't do you much of a favor. Since your kind aren't really afraid of dying anyway".

"Abomination", hissed brother Klang. An enigmatic grin spread across the lips of the assassin, as he looked up at the hulking Space Marine.

"Why is that, anyway? Why aren't you afraid of dying?"

There was a brief silence, and then a tumult of gunfire and explosions was heard. A Dark Eldar warrior ran into view, and as he turned around to fire a salvo from his splinter rifle, his entire upper body was evaporated by the nearly blinding white beam of an inferno pistol. What remained collapsed to the floor with an unceremonious clattering thump. Inquisitor Ztern and his Stormtroopers had arrived.

"Sergeant Kartox", said the Inquisitor as he holstered his weapon. "By the looks of it, you managed to draw off most of the corsairs who were causing us trouble. Well done indeed!"

"Any further orders, Inquisitor", said Kartox.

"Well, Sergeant... There has been a rather unfortunate turn of events. The corsairs have somehow managed to trip the warp drive of this ship. My enginseers are attempting to reverse the sabotage, but I'm afraid it isn't looking too good. Within a few minutes, this vessel will self destruct, and everything within ten thousand kilometers will be dragged with it into the Immaterium".

"In that case it would seem prudent to evacuate at once". Kartox paused for a second. "But what of Lord Offenbach?"

"Lord Offenbach has fallen in battle", said Ztern in a grave tone of voice. "There is no time for further explanations at this time. Sergeant – you and your Astartes will use the teleportarium. We will leave in our boarding vessels. All hands, abandon ship!"


End file.
